House of Bathory(20)
Betsy stepped aside and let the tall elegant creature enter her office.
“Please sit down, Morgan. So. Daisy’s sister?”
“I am sorry to drop in on you like this, but I’ve come to check up on Daisy. My…dad gave me your contact information.”
“You are from New York, right?”
“Yes, though we live most of the time in Florida now.”
“We?”
The young woman hesitated.
“Dad and I. After the divorce, I chose to stay with my father and Daisy went with my mother.”
“I see.”
Morgan looked around the room. Betsy noticed she focused on the leather-bound books.
“And…?” Betsy let the unspoken question hang. Morgan had come to see her, uninvited; Morgan was going to have to carry this conversation.
“Yes,” she said, reluctant to stop inspecting the house and bookshelves. “Dad and I are really worried about Daisy. I heard she had another choking episode and went to the ER.”
“That was a while ago.”
“Did she say why it happened?”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, in therapy, did she say anything that might have triggered the choking? What did she say exactly?”
Betsy sat back in the chair and her fingers sought the end of the armrest. She grasped hard as if she were on a carnival ride.
“You know, I really can’t talk about your sister’s therapy with you. It is confidential.”
The catlike eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “You are trying to help her, right? I mean, she must tell you everything, right? Has she told you the nightmare about the vampire?”
Betsy opened her mouth to answer, but the reply was stillborn in her mouth. It was none of this girl’s business what Daisy said to her in a therapy session.
“We are working together toward discovering the causes of her distress.”
“Distress?” Morgan scoffed. “Is that what she calls it?”
Betsy’s fingernails dug deeper into the fabric. “No, that is what I call it.”
“Well, she’s a spoiled brat,” said Morgan, spitting out the words. Her green eyes narrowed, glinting. “She has been spoiled rotten since the day she was born. I’m sure that the only reason that she is doing this choking thing is to draw more attention to herself.”
Betsy didn’t respond directly. Instead, she asked, “Morgan, are you staying with Jane and Daisy?”
The visitor sniffed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“Do they even know you’re here?”
“No. I’m just passing through. I leave this afternoon. My father wanted me to check up on Daisy’s…progress. And to meet you.”
Morgan fiddled with her starched white collar. Then she dug in the pocket of her suede jacket, producing a white business card from a tooled leather wallet. “Here. This is her dad’s number.”
“Her dad?” Betsy asked.
Morgan glared at her. “He’s her biological father. I am Jane’s daughter from her first marriage. Anyway, he says that if there are any questions or breakthroughs, call him first. Not Jane.”
“Your mother? You are asking me not to call Jane?”
“Yes. Call him first.”
“I’ve never met your father. I have met Jane. She signed the papers and writes the checks. Daisy lives with her, not with her father.”
“Roger pays you. He’s the one with the money. He can pull her from therapy any time he wants.”
Betsy turned the card over in her hand. “Tell him to call me. I feel uncomfortable with the situation and I feel I should adhere to protocol.”
Morgan’s eyes widened. “Protocol? Wait! You can’t tell Jane I’ve been here.”
“Why?”
“Just don’t. It will—upset her, and really confuse Daisy. I swear it will.”
Betsy’s mouth tasted sour. She realized she had taken an instant disliking to this attractive young woman. What was it about Morgan that set her on edge?
“You understand that I am under no obligation to do anything you say. My only concern is Daisy.”
Morgan hesitated. The green eyes stared at Betsy, cold and glittering.
“You don’t like me,” she said slowly. “I can sense that. But I have an important question for you. And it might be helpful for Daisy. I wish you would give me an honest answer—”
“What is it? If it’s about your sister, the answer is no. I will not discuss her.”
“No, Dr. Path. You’ve already made that abundantly clear,” said Morgan waving away Betsy’s response. “Just a simple question, nothing to do with Daisy.”
“Go ahead.”
“Is it possible to—I don’t know—inherit or borrow a dream from someone?”